


Wolf&Moon (my heart is filled with gladness)

by AvaRosier



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, University, halloween themed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-27 04:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Halloween during their freshman year of college, and Scott and Lydia finally decide to be honest about how they feel for each other. It just takes being locked in Lydia's sorority basement for this to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolf&Moon (my heart is filled with gladness)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lemielestdoux/flyinggraysons](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lemielestdoux%2Fflyinggraysons).



> written for the Bite Off Center trope fest. Trope used: # 99, trapped/stranded together. Specifications: Lydia and Scott get trapped in a closet together, sexytimes ensue. 
> 
> Major thanks to jaqofspades, who beta'd this for me. You, as always, rock!
> 
> Also: I know the full moon this year for October comes on the 18th, but shhhh, if Jeff Davis can make up full moons, so can I.

**Saturday, October 26, 2013**

 

“You have enough money for a while, righ-" “ _Yes, Mom_.”

“Don’t forget to tell Lydia I’m proud of her.  And if she needs-" “ _Yes, Mom_.”

Melissa cupped his cheek, her bottom lip looking slightly tremulous. “I’m proud of you, too, sweetie.” She smiled. “You’ve been working so hard, but don’t forget to enjoy yourself a little.”  Feeling his heart constrict in his chest, Scott bent down and scooped her up into a big bear hug. “I’ve got Mal and Lydia, we do manage to let our hair down a little from time to time.”

 “I love you.” “ _I love you, too_.”

“Are you sure you have enough pa-“, “ _Mom! I’m hardly going to be naked and they have stores here_!”

The second after the words left his mouth, Scott was already cringing. He _never_ raised his voice like that with his mom. The pile of Chem homework he wanted to get through before the party tonight was no excuse.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Scott Francis.”

And then a beat later Melissa was gasping with horror, hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my god, I sound like _my_ mother. I’m just going to leave now while I have my dignity. Love you! Be good!”

At least this time she wasn’t sniffling as she pulled away in her new-used Saturn, unlike the first time she had left him in Berkeley, back in August.

Months ago, he hadn’t been sure how she would deal with having the house all to herself for the first time in eighteen years. When Scott had asked, Derek had shrugged and said he'd check in on her from time to time to make sure she was getting on alright and maybe fix the garbage disposal if it was broken again.  Scott waved at his mother as she drove away and sighed. That was definitely Derek Hale he was smelling on his mom, and he really wasn’t sure he wanted to have that conversation with either Derek or his mother.

“ _Are you having sex with my mother, Derek_?” Maybe if he had a pencil sharpener on hand, he could channel a bit of Victoria Argent.

Or:

“ _So, Mom, have you been getting your groove back with anyone lately_?” Nah, she'd probably smack him upside the head.

Scott decided to just ignore this new discovery for the time being, and jogged back to the entrance to his dormitory building.  He had scored a quad room en-suite in the Foothill dorm. Two guys to a room, four rooms altogether in the suite. He would have preferred not to be sharing a bathroom and kitchen with seven other dudes, but at the price he was getting, he wasn’t going to complain.  At least his room had an amazing view of the Bay. The entire building reminded him of a ski lodge and even from his room, he could smell the eucalyptus trees.

In spite of the tumultuous first months after being bitten, Scott had managed to regain his 4.4 GPA.  In his personal statements for Stanford and Berkeley, he explained the blemish in his sophomore year as an emotional crisis which made him take stock and mature.  They ate it up. He doesn't know what Coach Finstock or Dr. Deaton had written in their letters of recommendation, but Scott was accepted to both and given some pretty hefty scholarship offers.  In the end, he went with Berkeley to do his pre-med requirements.  Officially, he was doing an Integrative Biology major and his first semester classes had been a considerable adjustment from high school. But Scott had discovered that he was able to rise to the challenge.

At least he wasn’t alone here. Towards the end of senior year, he’d heard through the pack grapevine that Lydia had ended up choosing Berkeley over Harvard, Yale, and even Cambridge to do her undergrad degree in Mathematics.

“ _Paying in-state tuition for an undergrad degree makes the most financial sense if I want to continue on to my Ph.D_ ,” Lydia had later informed him primly.

“ _I’m glad you’re going to be there with me_ ,” he had admitted to her.

“ _Of course you are_ ,” she had rolled her eyes. But she hadn’t been able to dim the wattage of her smile when he had asked her where she’d be living. Practically next door to him, as it turned out. Honestly, he’s not surprised she opted for Stern, the all-female dorm next to his.

Stiles had gone north to study folklore at the University of Oregon.  Scott struggled, some days, with his best friend being so far away for longer than they’d ever been apart.  He and Allison had never gotten back together after sophomore year but had remained friends. He was friendly with the other werewolves and Danny, it just wasn’t the same as what he had with Stiles.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Huh?”

It swung open and a tall black guy his age stood there with his arms spread wide open.

“McCall, is that how you greet your second-best friend?” He intoned with mock disappointment.  And then his eyes flashed yellow and Scott snorted.

“You mean third-best friend, I think Lydia would count as second-best.” Scott pointed out, tossing one of his baseball gloves at his roommate.

Malcolm Reece, English Lit major and occasional bow-tie wearer, simply caught it one-handed and strolled into the room he shared with Scott before proceeding to mock-swoon onto his bed.

“Ohh no, no. I think the lovely Miss Martin belongs to an entirely different category than something so platonic as ‘best friend’.” Without waiting for Scott to object to his claim, Mal swept backwards and began reciting to the ceiling, “ _had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, Lady, were no crime_...”

“Oh shove it,” Scott muttered back good-naturedly.

But Mal wasn’t the first person to wonder what was going on between Scott and Lydia. Even Scott’s own mother had asked him that question last night. Melissa had arrived yesterday afternoon and Scott had met her outside Wheeler when his R+C class had let out, and she had asked Lydia to come along with them to dinner.  They’d gone to Angeline’s and Melissa had stared at her son with wide eyes as he and Lydia began to exchange several things on their plates, without words, as if they had done this dozens of times before. 

(They had.)

“Sweetie, is there something going on between you and Lydia?” His mom had asked when Lydia had excused herself to the restroom. Scott had shaken his head around mouthfuls of the gumbo he had split with Lydia.

“What? No! She’s my friend, mom, you know that.”

“Yes, but… well, maybe I’m seeing how you might be good at being something more, is all I’m saying.” Melissa had ended the conversation before Lydia could weave her way back towards their table.

It wasn’t that Scott didn’t see it. He felt it, all the time. But he had gotten so used to hiding it, to keep telling himself to treat her like a friend and leave his romantic fantasies for the night time along with the guilty masturbation sessions.

Malcolm only smirked at Scott’s objections. “Oh by the by, Gran said you’re expected at the house next Sunday for dinner. And you’re required to help with the cooking. If she’s letting you help, that means you’re alright in her book. But all the same, I wouldn’t fuck up. I’d say her bark was worse than her bite, but…”  Malcolm broke out in laughter at his own joke, and Scott found himself chuckling.

“Using me as unpaid labor isn’t going to be a theme with your family, is it?” Scott teased.  Alpha Blackburn was a fearsome enough woman and Scott didn’t dare piss her off while he was living near her territory. Malcolm decided to give up on poking fun at his roommate and booted up his laptop so he could work on one of his essays.

Scott tried to focus on his Chem textbook, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Lydia.

The thing was, Scott _knew_ she was attracted to him- he could smell the arousal that was practically directed at him like a neon sign sometimes. And he knew she knew that he knew. But he also knew that his feelings for her were more than lust. Scott was very aware that he needed to let her know what he wanted- and if that wasn’t what she wanted, then he would really rather not lose their friendship. It was much too precious to him.

 _She_ was much too precious to him.

 

 

* * *

 

Lydia had homework she could be doing right now, given that she was planning on going to a Halloween party that night and presumably going to be somewhat hungover tomorrow. But instead, she had her trusty Hitachi wand firmly pressed against the front panel of her panties. Her dorm room windows were open enough for a cool breeze to waft inside and tease her hair and bare thighs. She could smell a hint of smoke in the air and couldn’t help shivering.  Little tremors of pleasure were beginning to grow between her legs.

In her fantasy, Lydia thought back to the last full moon, when Scott had let himself into her room with the key she had given him. She’d woken up just enough to pull the covers away so he could crawl into the narrow bed next to her.  Even in her drowsy, half-conscious state, she had been aware of him crouching by her hips and she had momentarily thought about tugging up her enormous sleep-shirt and widening her thighs so that she could press his head downwards.

But she hadn’t.

Scott had just slid in behind her and wrapped his arms around her ribcage. His chin had fit into the space between her neck and shoulder, and he had nuzzled her with a soft growl. Lydia had simply patted his hairy jaw and squirmed against the rough material of his jeans before going back to sleep.

But this time, in her fantasy, she pretended that she and Scott were already more than friends, and that she had pressed his head down between her thighs, and this time she hadn’t been wearing underwear.

Lydia’s deep breaths turned into a soft, sustained wail as she flew over the edge and rocked her hips desperately into her orgasm. Heart pounding, Lydia rode the tremors out and then finally turned off the vibrator, discarding it by her side.  Her eyes were closed and her legs felt a bit like rubber- still sore from her workout earlier.  But the good kind of sore that would feel amazing when she stood up in a few minutes.

Lydia stood up and bit back a groan at the mild burn in her muscles.  It was barely ten o’clock and she had been awake since six, with the fragments of one of her usual nightmares still a wisp in her waking consciousness. Then there had been spin class from 8 to 8:45, before returning to her dorm room.

Freshly showered, hair lightly curled and pushed back over her shoulder with a grey headband, and clothed in a dark plum sweaterdress and her favorite new thigh-high grey boots, Lydia was ready to enjoy her Saturday.

Powering up her laptop, Lydia tried to make up her mind about lunch. That orgasm was enough to make her even hungrier after her workout. Hooking one leg over her knee, she couldn’t help but preen at the sight of her legs encased in the grey boots.  The tops reached an inch and half past her knees and, with the altered hemline of her skirt, there was a small expanse of creamy thigh bared to her gaze. Simply put, she looked phenomenal today and she needed to go show it off.

She could go wander through the Farmer’s Market. Or one of the old bookstores that served as a hipster hangout. They usually had a few books on arcane knowledge. There were always a few intellectual types, Berkeley was oversaturated with them, and at least one of them were certain to take a look at her and think she was easily impressed when they hit on her. Chewing up their sub-par intelligence was always a delight.  Usually, Scott would be ten feet away, listening with a smirk on his face.

Lydia loved Saturdays the best, especially now that the days were shorter and there was a definite crispness to the air. The leaves on deciduous trees everywhere in the Bay area were starting to change from green to fiery yellows, oranges, and some reds. It was unusually cold for the Bay area, but Lydia was simply going to appreciate having some actual fall foliage this year.

She remembered researching the leaf fall process when she was in third grade. Chlorophyll was abundant in plants during the spring and the summer, processing sunlight into carbohydrates and the steady stream of chlorophyll gave the leaves their green color. But it was when the veins in the plant began to close off in the fall, when cork cells form at the base of each leaf, that the supply of minerals and nutrients tapered off.  She still remembered the names for the reactions that occurred when the chlorophylls degraded: yellow xanthophylls, orange beta-carotenes, and red anthocyanins.

Lydia thought it ironic, but somewhat fitting in a macabre way, that what people found so beautiful about autumn leaves was the slow strangulation of the leaves. That they were most beautiful when they were dying. And it was nearly Halloween, one of the two days a year that her awareness of the world around her would shift. It still scared her, and she was grateful now, more than ever, that she didn’t have to face the first of November alone.

She shook herself out of her reverie and pulled up an article on combinatorics that she had bookmarked last night, settling in to read up on a new theorem. She made it ten pages before the incredibly dry style began to make her attention drift. Not only was it was the weekend before Halloween: it was nearly the full moon.  Her sorority was having a special Halloween—themed bash tonight and, considering that the sorority was basically a coven full of witches, it promised to be something spectacular.

And Scott was going to be there with her. Werewolves and witches didn’t normally get along, but over the past two months since she had decided to rush for Epsilon Kappa Tau, the other women had gradually warmed up to him. Actually, they kept encouraging her to cross that murky, not-so-defined boundary from friends to lovers.

Lydia sighed and closed the browser tab, giving up on getting any work done that day. She had been avoiding any semblance of a romantic relationship since the end of her Junior year. It had been something of a shock to realize, after a moment of epiphany, that she had actually been treating Scott like a boyfriend for months- just without the kissing and sex.

They were pack, so Lydia had continued to spend time with Scott after they had moved into their respective dormitories. They would do homework in each other’s room, eat dinner in the cafeteria together most nights, and plan to do things together on the weekends. Lydia had even bought him clothing- a new shirt to show off those amazing clavicles of his. She had consulted on his last haircut.

Scott did it, too. Even though it was their first semester of college, both Lydia and Scott were reeling a bit from the difference in their workload. Scott was essentially fulfilling pre-Med requirements so he could go to med school and become a pediatrician. Lydia wanted to go far in mathematics. This meant that it could be hard to squeeze in free time during the day- but somehow they managed. Scott would pick up something small for breakfast after his Bio lecture on Mondays, Wednedays, and Fridays since there was one hour in between his class ending and her first class of the day starting.

They’d eat in her room, his dark eyes following her movements as she did her hair and makeup for the day. She’d stopped wearing high heels all the time because there was just no way she could walk fast enough in them in the ten minutes she had to get from Evans to Li Ka Shing to Etcheverry.

“I don’t know what it is,” he murmured one day, reclined as he was on her bed. “Without the heels, you look cute as a button and I just want to pick you up and _arrrgh_!” He imitated wrapping his arms around her and, what, squeezing the life out of her? Lydia had given him a dirty look as she ran the straightener through her hair.

“I have wolfsbane-enhanced mace in my purse, Scott. I am not _adorable_.”

“Hmm-hm.” He hadn’t stopped grinning at her.

On Tuesdays they sometimes had lunch together; the occasional breakfast on Thursdays.

Lydia had been flabbergasted when she sat down to make a graph of her time spent with Scott in the space of a week and saw the cold mathematical reality of just how big a part of her life he was.

And…that was okay. Maybe  there was something about living away from home that allowed her to realize that she could have a boyfriend without losing sight of her goals. And, to be frank, her previous boyfriends usually pissed her off more than she could tolerate them. Scott already fit into her life. So, if they decided to make the leap from friends to lovers- what would change in their day-to-day life, really? Not a whole lot.

Lydia stood up, grabbed her bag and her keys, and decided that tonight was as good a night as any to tell Scott what she had concluded.

 

* * *

 

 

When Scott walked up the path to the Epsilon Kappa Tau sorority house, Lydia was waiting for him, her face upturned to the full moon above. Its luminosity was absorbed and reflected in her pale skin. Scott felt the ever-present thrumming of electricity coursing through his skin and reveled in the way the moon pulled at his wolf.

Lydia exerted her own form of gravity, and Scott hadn’t a single thought in his brain as he made a beeline for her. The leaves crunched under his foot, alerting Lydia to his presence. She turned her face away from the moon and gave him one of her secret smiles- a genuine one that Scott had figured out Lydia granted very few others.  She took in his costume with only the slightest raise of an eyebrow.

“Genderbent Mako Mori? I like it.” Scott grinned down at her, letting her pluck at the electric blue streaks he had sprayed into a few strands of his hair.  “Even if you went and shaved off that nice beard you had going on.”

“I can grow it back in no time at all. I like yours, too. Very ironic and traditional.” He waved two fingers at the pointy black hat she was sporting.

Lydia did a pirouette for him; showing off the curve-skimming black witch’s dress, complete with sparkly black heels and a heavy metal pendant that rested against the swell of her cleavage.

“Aren’t you supposed to have a familiar, though?” he asked.

“Maybe he’s just now arrived?”  She poked a finger into his side teasingly before linking her arm through his so that he could escort her into the house. Scott just groaned.  He really had handed that one to her.

He could hear ‘Love Potion No. 9’ blasting from the speakers and the house, while it looked dark inside, had the soft glow of several colored lights showing through the windows- some purple, some green, some orange, and some red. 

Very few people were aware that the small, tight-knit, and highly selective sorority known as Epsilon Kappa Tau was comprised entirely of witches and a few varieties of fae- including Lydia, who was a banshee.  In fact, the name of the sorority was a clever play on ‘Hecate’.

As they walked through the front door and began to weave through the costumed, chattering students in various stages of tipsiness, Scott inhaled the subtle scents of dried herbs and incense wafting through the house.

“Uh…” he bent down near Lydia’s ear, “should I be worried about falling under some kind of spell tonight?”

Lydia winked up at him. “Don’t worry, sweetie. You’re safe with me.”

It wasn’t exactly the best idea for Scott to be here tonight, with the full moon about to reach its zenith. But over the years, he had developed excellent control; it helped that he was with his packmate. Lydia’s presence helped to anchor him.

“Yeah, I really am.”

 

_She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink_

_She said "I'm gonna make it up right here in the sink"_

_It smelled like turpentine, it looked like Indian ink_

_I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink_

_I didn't know if it was day or night_

_I started kissin' everything in sight_

_But when I kissed a cop down on Thirty-Fourth and Vine_

_He broke my little bottle of Love Potion Number Nine_

They spent the next hour and half chattering with her sorority sisters and their guests. When they didn’t have a cup of alcoholic liquid in their hands (that usually seemed to glow in the dark), they were hitting the dance floor that had been created in the living room after moving the furniture against the walls. Scott suspected they probably made fools of themselves, but hey, who was going to remember that in the morning?

Nobody but the werewolf who wasn’t affected by alcohol, that’s who.

Lydia spun closer to him at one point and Scott gave in to the urge to curl his arm around her. Bared to the shoulder as his arms were, he was able to feel the long, straightened strands of Lydia’s red hair as they brushed over his forearm. “Soft,” he rumbled, rubbing a lock of hair between the pads of his fingers. Unable to resist, Scott bent his head down low and tucked his nose against her throat, breathing deeply of her scent. She shivered, and Scott wondered if telling her that his wolf wanted to crawl into every nook and cranny of her body would be too creepy.

The atmosphere on the dance floor was beginning to change. Everywhere Scott looked, the dancers seemed to have slid into a trance, their movements becoming more sinuous. He shook his head to clear it from the growing haze. A spell was being woven from one dancer to another.

_When you came in the air went out,_

_and every shadow filled up with doubt…_

 

He was very much aware that his wolf was beginning to bleed through his pores and that his eyes had begun to take on a red glow.  Lydia peered up at him, close enough for her breath to be a warm puff against his chin. A palm on his cheek helped to pull him out of the wave of witch-magic flowing over them.

“Come on, there’s something in the basement that will help you focus for a little while longer,” Lydia tugged on his hand and Scott, like always, followed.

The door to the basement was in a darkened hallway, around the corner from the view of most partygoers, and covered ominously with a dark red velvet sheet. Lydia had told him the basement was where the witches stored their herbs and various accoutrements for worship and spellcasting. A frisson ran down his spine when he passed under the doorway.

Lydia noticed his apprehension.  “It’s a warning against encroachment: periwinkle, cinquefoil, hyssop, and vervain.”

If Scott were being completely honest, he found it immensely attractive how masterful Lydia had become about the supernatural. In the last two years since she had discovered that she was a banshee, she had set herself about finding out what precisely that meant and she had experimented with her abilities. Scott knew that, deep down, she never wanted to feel as powerless as she had when every inexplicable trance led to another dead body.

There was another, more noticeable warning when Lydia led him past the oak tree roots that curled into the soil of the cellar- positioned underneath the spacious back yard- to the entrance of the vault.  The warning emanated from the runes that decorated the doorway and the sachet of herbs that hung above it.

The small nemeton that the coven called its own had nowhere near the power that the Beacon Hills nemeton once had. But this young one called out to Scott all the same. The power that resided in the small oak tree was cleaner, and whenever Scott was near it, he felt the familiar darkness that bound him to Beacon Hills begin to lighten its weight.  His connection to the nemeton was perhaps one of the main reasons why Lydia’s sorority sisters tolerated his presence around her whenever she brought him to sorority or coven functions.

“Don’t touch anything in here,” Lydia warned with an accusatory glare that would have been better suited for Stiles or Isaac than him. She was already browsing through various bottles and packets with a furrowed brow. “There’s a good one I think you’d like- it has rosemary in it and the mixture will help keep the magic and the moon at bay…” she trailed off as she concentrated on the task before her.

Scott just smiled softly at his packmate, hands tucked securely into his pants pockets. "Take your time, I’m not in a hurry.” He shrugged and twisted around in the small room to peer at some of the labels, curious to see what kinds of things were stored inside. He didn’t notice the unstoppered bottle sitting at the corner of the wooden worktable, and his elbow knocked it off. If his hands hadn’t been hampered by his pants pockets, perhaps Scott’s werewolf reflexes would have been able to catch it. But as it was, the glass bottle shattered on the smooth stone ground, scattering its contents everywhere.

“Scott!” Lydia admonished, huffing with irritation. “You’ve gone and done it now.”

“Done what?” He asked her incredulously.

The door to the vault slammed shut, leaving them with only the pale moonlight drifting in through a barred window up at the ceiling.

“ _That_.”

 

* * *

 

 

They’d been stuck down there for twenty minutes already, and Lydia had long since taken off her witch’s hat. There was no service for his phone- she wasn’t carrying hers, and the door was heavily spelled to repel anyone who tried to escape. They had no choice but to wait for one of the coven members to come downstairs and free them.

Scott found himself watching Lydia methodically examine each bottle of questionable liquid.  It struck him then, how beautiful she was. No, that wasn’t right.

Scott had always thought Lydia Martin was beautiful. But in the past two years since she had become a part of his pack and they had worked closely together using her gift to help people… Scott had begun to see all the aspects of Lydia Martin that she used to keep carefully hidden.  Every new facet that he saw was gradually added together in his mind until all of the sudden, he felt like he could really see _her_.

Their kiss during sophomore year notwithstanding, Scott and Lydia hadn’t been two people who had gravitated towards each other.  But over time they had grown closer together until one day, they just…fit.

“Is there a particular reason you’re staring at me like that, McCall?” Lydia intoned, barely glancing his way. Ouch. She was calling him by his last name. She usually did that when she was either teasing him or when she was pissed at him.

They’d had more than a few moments lately, where they realized their hugs were lasting several seconds too long to be platonic- moments where they couldn’t resist reaching out to touch a hand to an arm. Moments where they danced together and pressed their bodies close enough to feel each other’s desire before moving on as if it had never happened. As if, as long as they didn’t verbally acknowledge it, they could keep on doing it without confronting the fact that they were no longer ‘just friends’.

“Maybe I like the view,” he said, digesting the realization that he just might have gone and fallen in love with her. Lydia continued to browse through the bottled oils.

Scott decided to go for broke.

 “Actually, it might be the look of a guy who’s realized that he’s already fallen in love.  Not only that, he may have been in love with this someone for a while,” he admitted. “But he’s scared of losing his friend if she would rather not be in a serious relationship with him.”

She didn’t respond right away, but her heartbeat picks up. Scott could feel his stomach clenching as he waited for the verdict.

She wandered over to several packets of dried plants and picked one up. “ _’Your presence eases my pain_ ’.”

“Sorry?”

She waved the packet in his direction.

“They’re forget-me-nots. That’s what they mean. They remind me of you.”

If there is one thing Scott’s noticed about Lydia, it’s that she sometimes drops these tidbits of knowledge when she’s a bit nervous.  She has no problem nowadays enlightening people matter-of-factly, but he’s figured out how to tell when she’s doing it out of nerves. And Scott also knows that Lydia Martin has a hard time admitting deep-seated emotions. She hates baring her soul or being vulnerable. It’s not something she does easily. So when she tells him that a bunch of dried herbs make her think of him, moving close enough that if he reached out, he could encircle her waist with his arms and pull her close…

 “You’re giving me that look again. I like that look, you shouldn’t stop giving it to me,” she said with a slow smile.

Scott reached out and tugged her into his arms. She felt solid in his embrace. He did nothing further, and she did nothing to escape or rebuke him.  Absolute joy bubbled out of his throat as he laughed. “I’ll give you that look all the time if you want. That is, if you think you can handle being the girlfriend of an Alpha werewolf.”

Lydia scoffed at his presumption, sliding her hands up over the curve of his bare biceps and fingering the material of his black tank. “I handled Aiden rather well, if you remember.”

“Yes but he wasn’t a _True Alpha_.”

The way Lydia fluttered her eyelashes up at him did funny things to his insides. “I think you need to worry more about whether you can handle me, _sweetheart_.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lydia left the challenge between them like a gauntlet. Neither she nor Scott moved for a long moment. They’d held themselves apart for so long that the simple inches that now lay between them seemed like miles.  She liked the way it felt, to be held in the secure circle of his arms.

She raised herself up on her tiptoes and curled her arms around the back of his neck. In the darkness, in the moonlight, he was half hidden in shadows. But Scott’s eyes were tracking her movements, divining her intentions, and so Lydia closed the last few inches between their lips.

She let the sweet pressure of their kiss continue for exactly five racing heartbeats before she let out a shaky exhale and tilted her head to the side. Scott moved one hand away from her waist and cupped her cheek so he could stroke the soft flesh as he slanted his mouth over hers. Her skin tingled everywhere he touched. Their motions settled into a distinct rhythm: every shift in their kisses came on fast before they forced themselves to slow down. To linger.

Vertical as they were, Lydia really wanted to straddle his thigh or somehow rub the growing need between her thighs against some part of his body. But she forced herself to endure the scratch of his human nails down her partially uncovered back.  Her reaction to this was controlled- she bit his bottom lip. Her reward was a deep groan and then they were sliding hands into hair, tugging on each other’s scalps until they were both shuddering. Lydia licked against the seam of Scott’s lips before opening her mouth further under his own. Scott got the hint and dipped his own tongue inside until it encountered hers; waiting.

Lydia’s mind kind of went blessedly blank then.

Her thoughts were in disarray. After all this time, Lydia was thirsty. No, more than that, she was parched. For once, she decided to not give a damn about putting on a performance the way she often did when she had sex.

She moved her head away from Scott’s and began to back out of his embrace. His eyes flew open and looked down at hers questioningly. “Lydia, what’s wr-“

“I want to touch you,” she told him. She tugged on the silver dog tags hanging around his neck and paced them backwards until she had him nearer to the opposite wall, well under the glow of the moonlight. “Lie down.”

Scott McCall, Alpha, did as she commanded and without hesitation.  When Lydia had him laid out before her, she didn’t know where to start. “I just want to touch you first,” she murmured into the relative silence of the vault. She began by untying his shoes and tossing them back into another corner of the room, along with his socks. The coarse hairs on his calves tickled the palm of her hands when she dipped them underneath the hem of his dark blue trousers.

When she traced a finger, feather-light, along the arch of one foot, Scott shivered.

When she pushed up the bottom of his black tank top and danced her fingers through the sparse trail of dark brown hair that disappeared below his belt, Scott’s belly jerked underneath her and he was breathing more rapidly and more deeply.

When Lydia straddled him fully and investigated the way his wider palms felt against her own smaller ones, when she nibbled on the pads of his fingers, Scott couldn’t help bucking underneath her, rubbing his growing erection against her thigh.

Lydia tugged up the hem of her dress until it was over her hips and placed his hands on her bottom. Scott wasted no time in gripping the cheeks firmly and groaning, glancing downwards to confirm his suspicions. “No underwear. Oh god, you are going to be the death of me.”

“ _Shh_. Not yet.” She scolded him, grinding herself along the zippered seam of his pants, along the swell of his cock. But it was when Lydia bent over to glide her tongue along one clavicle, to taste the saltiness of his flesh before nibbling on Scott’s earlobe that the man beneath her began to beg.

“Lydia. Lydia, _please_.” She moved backwards until she was no longer directly straddling him, in an effort to regain some measure of control over the desire coursing through her blood. Their harsh pants echoed in the dark vault.

Lydia sat up on his thighs and yanked the dress and the heavy pendant over her head. Her shoes had already slipped off at some point.  “Sit up,” she commanded even as she tugged on the clasp of her bra. When Scott was once again facing her, “Touch me.”

And he did.

She stared down into his dark eyes, pupils absolutely blown with desire, as he slid the soft palms of his hands up and down her back. He added the slight lengthening of claws into the equation and, when he was granted assent from Lydia’s moan, he scraped them over the sensitive skin of her ribcage, buttocks, and thighs until she was panting and teetering on her knees before him.

The hot sweep of his tongue up the column of her throat woke her from her daze and she squirmed as he gently cupped her breasts in his hands. The tweak of one nipple between his thumb and forefinger sent her down upon one thigh, grinding her wetness into the cloth.  Her moan reverberated off the stone walls of the vault. 

She twisted around until she was sat on her calves in between his thighs. She raised the curtain of red hair off her back and held it on top of her head.

“Use your teeth. Please,” she asked of him, trembling as she waited. This was perhaps one of her favorite acts of foreplay, and she just knew it would be even better with Scott.

She felt his hot breath against her neck before his teeth were nipping into the flesh there. “Oh!” she exclaimed, barely able to process the sensation before Scott was kissing and biting his way over her shoulders, down along her back, and even onto the sides of her breasts- all while her arms shook as she tried to hold her hair on top of her head.

“You’re so responsive,” He groaned before giving her another love bite on her neck, curling until he was suckling on the skin and she was curving her head on top of his. Scott scratched his claws lightly over the top of her thighs before tracing them ever so slowly upwards, past belly and waist until he was cupping her breasts, massaging them lightly as he ran his teeth along the sensitive skin where her neck met her shoulder.

“Bend over,” he ordered.

Feeling absolutely wanton, Lydia crawled forwards onto her forearms, leaving her thighs wide open for him. She could hear him tugging off his shirt and unbuckling his pants, before he bent down and bit into the fleshy globes of her ass. Lydia squirmed, but otherwise kept her hips tilted up to his mouth. The first swipe of his tongue on her wet folds elicited a low moan. She could feel her thighs quivering as Scott kept driving the broad part of his tongue against her, over and over again, before he deigned to focus on her attention-starved clitoris. The tip of his tongue fluttered against it and she allowed the torture to continue for a long minute. Then two.

And then Lydia couldn’t take it anymore. She flipped her body around until she was on her back before him. The light of the moon filled the room at an angle that left part of Scott shrouded in darkness. Lydia could guess why he was hiding.

“It’s okay,” she cooed, tugging on his forearms. “Come closer.”  Scott crawled over her prone body, revealing via moonlight what he had tried to conceal: the hair along his jawline, the Alpha-red, the fangs. Lydia feared none of those things, because to her, they were all a part of Scott. And she trusted him above everyone else. She felt no need to cower or cover the scars on her left flank.  All she wanted was…

“More,” she told him, curling one arm underneath his until she was clutching his back. Her other hand, she reached between them until she was holding his cock- hot and heavy- against her cunt. And then he was sinking into her with a soft groan-growl, opening her up and filling her.  Lydia gave a breathy moan at the sensation. He felt wondrously thick and hard, and she had been fantasizing about this for months.

Lifting one leg over his hip, Lydia bucked her hips impatiently, trying to get him to move. And move he did. Scott rested his forearms on the stone floor on either side of her head and used that as leverage to thrust into her, hard, before slowly retreating. He repeated this rhythm no matter how much Lydia tried her best to use her pelvic muscles to grip him and slow his retreat.

The full moon, the Day of the Dead, the tension that had lay between them for many months, all the foreplay... Lydia was fairly sure neither of them would last much longer.

Scott’s breatsh were harsh against her collarbone, and his moans sounded more like growls compared to her higher, breathy notes. When she splintered apart underneath him, her wails spurred him on. Lydia dug her nails into his buttocks and felt the strain in his muscles as he jerked against her. He rode out her orgasm before howling through his own.

The cellar was quiet, save for their heavy panting, as they came down from the intense sensations. Eventually, Scott moved off of Lydia, slipping out of her with a wet noise. He groaned and whispered against her damp skin, “We smell so good. We smell right.”

Lydia just made a nonsense sound before allowing him to tug her into a sitting position. He placed her bra in her hand, and after that was fastened, her dress.  The rasp of his zipper in the near-silence of the vault was harsh against her ears. She was vaguely aware of him tugging on his shirt as she slipped back into her dress. Neither of them bothered with their shoes, mostly because Lydia was already crawling into Scott’s lap and curling herself into his warmth before dozing off in her post-orgasmic high.

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was nearly seven in the morning when the vault door was opened by Maria and Prue. The seniors tut-tutted disapprovingly at the mess the two had obviously made in a relatively sacred space.  Prue, however, tip-toed further into the vault as Lydia and Scott began to awaken. She bent down closer to the ground where the mix of herbs which Scott had knocked over were and hummed.

Maria, not as given to flights of fancy as Prue was, raised a single eyebrow at her sister.

“What?”

Prue twisted her sizeable girth around and grinned up at Maria, her dark skin almost glowing in the early morning light. “Powerful magic. See, I told you, those two were good for it!” She whispered, mindful of the drowsing lovers next to her.

The herbs by themselves had done nothing. It was what the sex magic had lent to it that had made it special. Prue would be sure to return later so she could sweep the newly empowered herbs back into a new bottle.

Maria rolled her eyes and crossed her arms dramatically, which made her look downright comical, given that she was still in her Wonder Woman costume. “Fucking fate,” she scoffed.

"Werewolf," the Alpha piped up from his position on the ground.

"Witch," Maria volleyed back at him before turning to leave the vault. "Don't sweep up the herbs, Prue'll get cross."  Prue gave a small hum of agreement before following her back up the stairs.

Scott opened his eyes fully and smiled down at the redhead who was lightly drooling onto his shirt.  In a few minutes, he would try to get her awake and back in her shoes before driving them back to Stern. A few hours napping in her warm bed seemed in order.

But for now, Scott thought everything was just perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> References: songs used (Love Potion No. 9, The Clovers; Bad Things, Jace Everett)
> 
> the poem Mal starts to recite is 'To His Coy Mistress' by Andrew Marvell.


End file.
